


coming out of my cage (and i've been doing just fine)

by questionably_fortunate_bamboo



Series: jonsa countdown 2017 [5]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Jonsa Countdown, gratuitous use of mr. brightside
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-23 10:33:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11400774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/questionably_fortunate_bamboo/pseuds/questionably_fortunate_bamboo
Summary: All she wanted was to dance to her favorite song.(written for day five of the jonsa countdown - songs)





	coming out of my cage (and i've been doing just fine)

**Author's Note:**

> Who doesn't love Mr. Brightside?????   
> I think that this song is very Sansa for some reason. I might rant about it on Tumblr later.   
> ANYWAYS, this might be my favorite piece for the countdown! I enjoyed it, so I hope you guys do too!

Sansa wipes tears from her eyes, hugging her arms across her chest. She carries her broken white heels in one hand. There’s a white marble fountain at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the Red Keep Country Club. She tosses the heels in the water and continues in her bare feet. It should feel satisfying, but all she can comprehend is anger and pain.

There’s a bench on the sidewalk which is protected by several tall oaks. Instead of sitting on it, she sits beside it. Somehow, the ground is more comfortable.

Her dress, her  _ beautiful  _ dress, is torn down the side. She had been so proud when she put it on earlier. It’s a sleeveless, pale gold, knee length dress that spun beautifully when she danced. To make matters worse, it’s a jagged rip that she’s not sure she’ll be able to repair. Sansa hadn’t thought to bring a coat or a shawl either, and the cold November air bites her to the bone.

Inside the country club, she hears a new song begin. It’s Mr. Brightside. She buries her face in her hands and sobs. On top of everything, of  _ course  _ she’d be crying out on the sidewalk while her favorite song in the entire world played inside.

When she regains control of her tears, she pulls out her phone and dials the first name on her emergency contacts list. It rings twice before the line is picked up.

“Hey, Robb?”

_ “Hey, Sansa, what’s up?” _

“Nothing, I just… can you come pick me up? I’m at the Red Keep Country Club for Joffrey’s birthday party-” Her voice breaks. She hopes he doesn’t hear how desperate she is.

_ “I’m so sorry, Sans, I’m at Margaery’s right now. I mean, if you can wait forty five minutes, then I can come get you,”  _ he says.  _ “Are you alright, though?” _

“I’m fine, don’t worry, just forget it,” she says, hanging up abruptly. Tonight, she has no patience for her brother’s well-intentioned bullshit. The next name on her emergency list is Jon Snow. With only a few seconds of hesitation, she presses the call symbol. It rings, and then goes to voicemail.

_ “Hey, this is Jon, sorry I’m not here. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”  _

“Jon, it’s Sansa. I’m at the Red Keep Country Club. I really need a ride. Please let me know if you can come. Thank you.” 

She hangs up and sighs. It’s an hour’s drive back to her family’s house. If no one can pick her up, it’s going to be a very long walk home.

Her phone buzzes seconds later. She picks it up and reads five life saving words-  _ I’ll be there in 10. _

When his old pickup truck pulls up, Sansa doesn’t hesitate to slip inside. She slams the door and slumps into the passenger seat. The radio is tuned to a classical music station, and she recognizes Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture playing quietly with intermittent static.

“Sansa, what- Jesus Christ, are you okay?” His dark curls are in disarray, and he’s wearing his glasses instead of contacts.  _ She woke him up to come get her.  _ The guilt is eating her alive.

“I’m alright,” she lies in a hoarse whisper, hugging her knees to her chest. 

“Do you want me to call the police? I swear, if anyone hurt you-”

“No, nothing like that.” 

“Sansa, I’m  _ really  _ worried about you right now,” he says. Concern is slathered across his handsome face. 

“I wouldn’t let Joffrey fuck me in a country club bathroom, so he broke it off. Jon, I don’t want to talk about this right now. I really want to go,” she begs, and he immediately pulls away from the curb. 

“Where do you want to go?”

“Not home,” she says, thinking of her family. Sansa doesn’t want to come through the front door with a ripped dress and mascara stained cheeks. Arya will want to fight someone, Bran will question her relentlessly, Rickon will start to cry on her behalf, and Uncle Benjen (bless his soul) will probably call the cops. “Anywhere but home.”

“I’ve got an idea,” he says, offering a smile that she can’t bring herself to return. Jon pulls over into the parking lot of a small diner. A large neon sign outside reads  _ Castle Black Cafe.  _ The sign listing the hours shows her that it should be closed, but the door is unlocked and there’s a man in an apron standing inside, wiping down the counter. Thankfully, there are no other customers.

“Hey, Sam,” says Jon, “could we have a couple minutes here?”

“Oh, sure! Be my guest. The tables are all clean, and I can put on some music while you eat.” He looks at her and grins. “You must be Sansa! I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Hi,” she says, wondering exactly  _ why  _ Sam has been hearing about her. A light pink blush has settled across Jon’s cheeks. He picks a booth next to a window overlooking the road. Outside, the streetlight changes from red to green. A delivery truck drives down the boulevard with a deep baritone rumble. 

“Can I get you two anything?” Sam asks.

“I don’t have my wallet,” mutters Sansa. 

“It’s on the house,” says Sam. “Any friend of Jon’s is a friend of mine!”

“Let me get a Belgian waffle with blueberry topping and a slice of lemon meringue pie for Sansa. And two hot chocolates,” Jon says.

Sansa smiles faintly. She loves lemon meringue more than life itself. Sam waltzes away to the kitchen. 

“Hey,” says Jon, “if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay. But if you do, if you  _ ever  _ do, I’m right here.” He reaches over and hesitantly wraps his fingers around hers. 

Sam comes back with their food and hot chocolates. Sansa expects Jon to turn his attention to his waffles (which smell heavenly), but he just looks at her with sad brown eyes.

“I’m angry. I’m lonely. I’m sick and tired of people treating me like shit. Everything around me is falling apart. It feels like I’ll never be able to survive in this stupid word,” she says. 

“You’re one of the best people I know, Sansa. You’ve gone through so much fucked up stuff. I know it’s hard with your parents gone. Just remember, you always have me. I’m never going to abandon you, I promise,” he says. 

That small promise means more to her than he could ever know. A thought at the back of her mind begins to ring through her head.  _ Maybe Jon Snow will be the start of something better. _

“I can’t go home,” she whispers. He nods, tracing circles with his thumb on the back of her hand.

“You can stay at my place for as long as you need to. I really don’t want you to feel lonely. There’s a spare room- I don’t have any extra sheets, but you can take my bed and I’ll go out to the shops tomorrow- and I know Ghost loves you,” he says sincerely.

Sansa wishes she could throw her arms around him and never let go. Suddenly, she realizes that soft music is playing through the diner. Fresh tears well up in her eyes.  _ I’m coming out of my cage and I’ve been doing just fine... _

“What’s wrong? Did I say something wrong? God, I’m sorry,” Jon says quickly. She shakes her head, hiding her face.

“No, it’s not you. I just need a minute.”

Her tears fall on her lemon meringue. Jon presses a kiss to her knuckles and does his best to comfort her. When Sam comes back to check on them, Jon asks for two takeaway boxes. 

It’s two o’clock in the morning when they leave the Castle Black Cafe. Sansa’s eyes are bloodshot and her throat is dry. She shivers when they get in the freezing car, and Jon drapes his flannel jacket over her shoulders and finds a pair of thick wool socks for her to slip on her feet.

His apartment is cold (he explains that he turns down the heat to save money), and is surprisingly tidy. Ghost, the pale white Shiba Inu, is asleep on the sofa. An array of papers are spread across the coffee table, with Jon’s careful calculations printed across them. There are three framed items on his wall. The first is his internship offer for NASA, the second is a picture of him when he was three, all smiles as he rode on his mother’s shoulders at a carnival, and the third is a picture of him, Robb, and Sansa. They’re in the middle of laughing wholeheartedly, sitting around a campfire on a summer night. 

“I’ve got some salad in the fridge if you’re still hungry. Do you want to watch TV? I’ve got HBO. Robb told me about a new series that’s pretty good. There are some board games in my room, too. And if you want to sleep, my room’s just over there-”

“No, thanks,” she says. Of course she’s tired to the bone and her ribs hurt from crying, but she knows that being left alone to her thoughts will only make matters worse.

“Tell me what you need. Anything at all.” 

She pulls out her phone and scrolls through her music. Mr. Brightside is the first on her favorites playlist. Sansa hits play and sets it down on the coffee table.

“They played it at the party while I was outside waiting for you… I didn’t get to dance, and it’s my favorite song,” she explains. 

He opens his arms, and she falls into them without question. Sansa leans against him and sighs. Jon smells like mint and campfire smoke, which is her new favorite combination. The loneliness is beginning to melt away. 

“You know, I always thought you’d be more of a Wonderwall person,” he says. She laughs for the first real time in ages. 

“Thank you,” Sansa whispers. He kisses the top of her head and murmurs  _ always, love  _ into her hair. 

_ As long as she has him, she’ll be just fine. _


End file.
